


Stained Glass

by ParodiaTheSilent



Category: Elsword (Video Game), Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Emotions, Gen, It Gets Worse, Standard Worm Things, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParodiaTheSilent/pseuds/ParodiaTheSilent
Summary: Taylor doesn't want to feel bad anymore and so, she doesn't.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	Stained Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am aware that I oughta update any of my other fics. I am also aware that despite saying I would update the Vacuous Spider every two weeks, I haven't done so in three months. I'll have at least one chapter out for that by the end of this month.

_Once, there was a lonely girl who lived in a city by the sea. A city embroiled in continuous conflict, falling apart at the seams. If one wished to be poetic, they could say that the two were analogous._

_(A city that never seemed to get better, only just held together despite its own darkness— the hollows carved into its corpse._

_A girl for whom things never seemed to get better, trudging through her days mired by fear and sorrow.)_

_The girl's life was not a kind one. Truly, it could be harder— she was fed, she was clothed, she was sheltered— but it was a trying one. Her mother was dead and the girl blamed herself for it and feared that her father might as well. How could she not when he rarely spoke to her— when they lived in the same home and ate at the same table yet he devoted more time to his work and mourning than he did his own daughter?_

_She'd taken a break and found her grief and guilt lightened; she felt that things could return… not to the way they had been but to a comforting approximation._

_That small hope was crushed._

_A girl— the vibrant red hair is what she remembers most— she'd found as close as a sister had thrown that affection in her face. Of course, the girl held out hope that her (ex)best friend would come back to her._

_(But maybe this was her fault too…?)_

_Their high school years began and the truth struck her._

_The harassment went on for weeks. The girl reported it and was ignored. Another strike._

_The bullying continued for months. She made more reports and put in transfer requests. Ignored and occasionally shredded in front of her. Strike._

_She didn't bother reporting incidents anymore. Instead, she kept a journal and hoped that it would be evidence enough._

_The year came to an end. The girl came home in stained clothes often and was ashamed at the relief she felt every time her father wasn't there to notice it. She had no friends and the old one seemed like she wasn't coming back. Her old grief felt raw and new again._

_School started again. Some time passed and she brought her mother's flute to school for comfort. It was stolen and defiled. She couldn't bring herself to move and collapsed in front of the dumpster where she'd last seen it, crying._

_Winter rolled around and the torment seemed to slow. She wasn't harassed in the halls anymore— though there was the occasional sneer— and her homework wasn't being stolen as often. She couldn't bring herself to truly relax but maybe…?_

_January started. They return from winter break. She could feel the gazes of other students on her like an ill omen. She could smell the horrid stench that she **knew** was coming from her own locker and against all sense she opened it._

_And she was shut inside._

_She managed to struggle for minutes before giving up. Then she began to plead, even as the hallway was emptied she pleaded to be released. After that she was reduced to tears, suffocating on the fetid scent of blood and her own vomit._

_For hours she stayed like that— choking on the air and her tears long dried— the only thing escaping her was stuttering breaths. She felt like she was dying._

_The moment the thought caught hold, her tears were renewed again._

_Taylor Hebert had no friends. For all that she had a father, he was hardly there for her. She was going to die alone— she was going to die in this crowded building because nobody cared enough to save her._

_'I don't want things to be like this,' she thought desperately. 'I don't want to die alone, killed by my best friend.' A thousand other thoughts ran through her head— circling and circling and writhing— but one stood out in the end._

_'I don't want to feel it anymore— this aching pain in my chest, this fear, this sadness, this guilt I've been bearing. I don't want to wake up every day and have to force myself to go to school, to lie to Dad and tell him everything's been fine, to go home and cry myself to sleep because Emma reminded me that it's my fault Mom died and I don't know what I did to make Emma hate me.'_

_'So please— if there's anyone who will listen to some as pathetic as me— if I don't die here in this metal prison, please don't let me keep feeling this way. All these painful feelings— **please take them away from me**.'_

* * *

A steel door was torn from its hinges.


End file.
